


Fears

by LostHydra



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, fears, i guess, shit i made the story but tags uh no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostHydra/pseuds/LostHydra
Summary: As much as Alexander Hamilton hates to admit it, he is afraid of many things.





	Fears

As much as Alexander Hamilton hates to admit it, he is afraid of many things.

Storms. The water in general. A hurricane hit his town when he was young- he managed to survive and took it as a blessing. It didn’t stop the deathly pale from taking over his skin when he had to go over the ocean to reach New York- the ocean reminded him of the flooded streets of Nevis, the wind of the cutting force that pushed him amongst the waves, that made the hurricane utterly terrifying, different from a normal storm.  
The storms which brought memory of the rain drops falling against his skin like small bullets, transparent but visible. The lightning and thunder reminded him of the noise, the drowned sounds of Nevis, the crowded area turned to small groups of people seeking high ground and shelter, the people who stood alone to brave the hurricane, the sounds of panic where family saw others drown, get pulled from them, pulled into the horizon, forgotten. The fear which reminded him of when he got pulled from the town, fearing to drift at sea, forgotten by everyone; as he held no one close any longer. The waves which crashed against the boat reminded him of the waves which forced his raft across the city in mere moments.  
The moments of peace and tranquility which reminded him of the eye of the hurricane, the moment of grace, thinking he’s out of the woods with the yellow sky shining on him, the light which reminded him of sunlight at long last. Before being pulled back into the terror, which made him even more afraid than being in it- the anticipation left him on the edge of his raft, gripping the wood until his knuckles turned ghostly white, and the splinters reminding him he was still alive.  
The moments when they ate- Alexander ate way too much, stressed, afraid, and thinking, “This might be my last meal,” before refusing to drink the water until he passed out in dehydration, the glass of clean water on the sea reminding him of the saltwater- which he foolishly, young and naïve, thought was safe to drink, until he choked out the water, thirstier than before, until he found a group that offered him some clean water.  
The pitying glances of the people who read what he went through reminded him of that group who found him delusional, dehydrated, and dying; most of all, alone in the storm, questioning him about his family. He ignored them; put up a front of strength, pride, talkativity- ranted at them about the hurricane until they dropped it and left him- which left him thinking; If people can leave so easily, if their sorrow and pity can escape them for a child who speaks to much, I don’t want to associate myself with them.  
His bed- warm, inviting- it reminded him of his raft- weak, easily destroyed, but safe. He didn’t leave his room for days.  
His wet clothing clinging to his skin as it did then.  
Walking toward the docks made him fear the boat would be swept away by the current, and he’d be lost at sea. When he touched the dock, solid, unmoving ground- he let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.  
That reminded him- he never did let go of that prideful front, why do so now?

Sickness. He feared becoming sick, so dangerously sick that he’d be bedridden- or, not exactly. He feared becoming so sick that the people close to him would die yet again.  
When he got sick, the fever and the coldness of the room made him see things, delusions, of his mother next to him again, holding him tightly, as if he were her lifeline. Her fingers were cold, left goosebumps on his arms and back where she wrapped her arms, but her forehead was burning, he nearly drew his hands away from it when he touched it, like a slightly hot cooking utensil which you left near the stove too long, seemingly scorching, burning on the first touch, before actually not being that warm. That's what it reminded him of, and his legs which curled up against his own body, seeking heat from himself and his mother. The slight white which swept over her skin, making it pale, but grew even quicker than it did when Alexander actually was with his mother, who became paler and paler until it could only be thought of similarity to a ghost, or a blank slate, soulless, dead.  
It didn’t help that a sickness arrived every summer and a reminiscence of the sickness he and his mother experienced.  
He imagined that descriptions on his companions, friends; Aaron, John, Hercules, Lafayette, the Schuylers, everyone he knew and loved.  
He almost considered severing ties with them so he never could see them hurt.

Fire. When Alexander sailed to America, his ship caught on fire. The flames pricked at his fingers, wispy but present, burned his arms, his clothing, and any uncovered skin. It left kisses that hurt at the touch on his skin, appearing bruise-shaped and leaving the skin raw, like uncooked meat. Stole his clothing, enveloping them in a flare, like a fist grabbing it, then disappearing. Chased after him, like a snake that moved too quickly until it stopped. Until someone threw water on it, until his extra clothing were left with burnt markings on them, left soaked.  
It reminded him that hurricanes give while they take, too.

Abandonment. His father left his family. He remembered James Hamilton Sr. speak to him, late at night while he was still awake, ushering him to go back to his room and sleep. Alexander didn’t- he would’ve normally if he hadn’t heard him and his mother arguing. He heard James Sr. say to his mother earlier that day, “You’ll get charged of bigamy! I can't let that happen to you!”  
Alexander knew James Sr. loved his mother, but he didn’t understand why he had to leave. He asked him, and James replied, “I won’t leave you forever. I’ll be back in a few hours, alright? Go back to sleep.”  
When Alexander woke up, his father wasn’t anywhere nearby.

People. He’d never admit it, but people scared him far more than fires, water, abandonment or sickness because they can carry all of them in their memories, or bring them to him. He didn’t want to get close to anyone- everyone he loves dies.

John Laurens reminded Alexander of a candle. Small fire, but it could burn you if you touched it, but also calming, reminding him fire can be controlled.  
Laurens decided to prank him one day- he set fire to a couple of pages of work he was doing. Laurens wanted him to spend time with him, but he got too caught up in his work. Alexander panicked, reminded of the flames which left him sweating, burned. John apologized.  
John Laurens was the only one told of the fire incident by Alexander.

Aaron Burr reminded Alexander of a small stream, moved along quickly, efficient, and patient, not forceful, easily pushed around. He admired those qualities.  
Aaron took him to a large waterfall one day, with the rest of the revolutionary set. The walkway could only fit three people at a time, so the revolutionary set went through it together, while Aaron and Alexander walked through after.  
It was a winding path which lead to a small tunnel behind the waterfall. The velocity of the water when it fell, hitting Alexander scared him terribly, water soaked him as the revolutionary set set up a joke- a bucket holding water which cascaded on whoever left the tunnel first. That with the waterfall combined, Alexander was brought back to his memories.  
Aaron Burr was the only one who was told in detail of the hurricane.

James Madison reminded Alexander of a sickly child- not that he'd ever tell him that- always coughing, sneezing- a mess. James suffered from a fever- way more severe than previous fevers while working to complete the Federalist Papers- preventing him from doing more than twenty-nine. Alexander had went to his house to offer him soup and tea made by Eliza, where he saw him sickly sitting on the couch near his own kitchen. He nearly dropped the items, as he looked much like his mother on her deathbed. He helped nurse Madison back to health (where he promptly got a cold). He had to explain why he reacted the way he did.  
James Madison is the only person who knows of his mother's death.

Elizabeth Schuyler reminded him of a cat- elegant, beautiful, but held grudges. For a long time.  
After Alexander saw his charred letters which he sent to Eliza a long time ago, he had been looking for her, to apologize, to do anything for Eliza.  
An hour later, Alexander cried over the remains of the papers, believing Eliza had left him for good- he deserved it over what he did to her, but he was heartbroken.  
Eliza returned afterward with food for herself- when she saw Alexander crying. A few moments later, he saw her and hugged her, refusing to let go. “I know I don’t deserve you, Eliza… but let me stay here, by your side…” he had told her.  
Elizabeth Schuyler was the only person he told about his father’s abandonment.

Alexander told nobody about his front of strength, or his fear of people.

**Author's Note:**

> -Alexander's ship to New York did catch on fire!  
> and that's pretty much all the research I did because the rest is just just I thought off the top of my head +normal Hamilton stuff


End file.
